watercolour and ink on paper

Data and forgetting

Let me tell you about the dream, for it is really a distopian novel in the waiting.  Or even a current story, if we are that far already.  

All forms of communication have been reduced to the words tapped on a screen.  For the hero, a middle aged man, all human contact is through the screen.  It is not that he is isolated in some form of virtual world, just that the post virus world shuns physical contact or talking.  The crux of the story is that the hero's text has changed from blue to pink which means he no longer is able to pay for data storage, thus any words beyond the 144 characters is discarded, forgotten, lost.  And this it is the hero loses his voice and is himself discarded, forgotten, lost, as without a voice he has no way of earning the money to buy more data storage.  

I think he might have forgotten how to delete old data to make space for the new.

Change, I tell you.  The thing I need to do, the thing that will make it all a lot better is to create that box, or cupboard, of things I can reach out for when I am feeling a little.sad.  Well, here is the point.  The box has to be filled with wholesomeness, not gluttony or greed, or synthetic or natural highs that, once the momentary release has escaped, leave it's traces in obesity or I'll health.  Change, that is the thing, I tell you.

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